


Taking Sides

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas knows what he wants, Castiel is a Little Shit, Established Relationship, Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 05:13:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5899525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam knows that the best way to persuade Dean to do anything, is to convince Cas it's a good idea. Cas uses that to his advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Sides

“I think we’re on to something, Dean.”

Dean gave an exasperated sigh at Sam’s words and shook his head. “Look. I know what you’re saying and what’s written in that book-”

“It’ll just be one more day.”

“You want to stay one more day,” Dean said, disbelief in his voice, “When we've done what we came to do, tied up all loose ends, and can be back at the bunker in,” he checked his watch, “under twelve hours, but you want to stick around because of a symbol you saw graffitied onto a wall by the church here?”

Sam crossed his arms determinedly, not breaking eye contact. “I told you. It could be important.”

“‘Could be’. Or could not be. Come on, Sam. We've been on the road for a week now.” Dean whined, pacing away from him.

Sam laughed, barely keeping the affection out of his voice when he said, “And we've been on the road for literally years without so much as day off. What’s one more day?”

The truth was, Sam liked this domestic Dean. There was something about watching Dean move around the bunker that said _home_ and _safe_ and _content_. The empty clatter of a dozen whiskey bottles no longer rang every time he took out the garbage, and so what if Dean had insisted on a very expensive coffee machine and become something of a coffee snob in the place of all that whiskey? Dean deserved good in his life.

It didn't hurt that Dean was an incredible cook; Sam had almost forgotten how Dean could make magic out of the barest of ingredients. He’d had to as they were growing up, throwing together the most random of odds and ends and still somehow making it taste delicious. Sam would happily reap the benefits of that skill for the rest of his life.

Almost-Happy Dean was something to behold, and the bunker had provided many of the ingredients for bringing him into existence.

The one, more portable ingredient sure to keep Dean in a good mood more than anything else, was Cas.

Since he and Cas had finally pulled their heads out of the sand and had an actual conversation about scary things like feelings, Dean had genuinely become the best version of himself that Sam had ever seen. Cas only had to look at Dean, and Sam would swear he saw all the tension in Dean’s face melt away.

Cas might look at Dean as though he was the very sun, but Dean looked back at him in exactly the same way. It was sickeningly sweet, but they were so good for each other that Sam kept his teasing to a minimum and thanked the universe daily for Cas coming into their lives.

True, Sam had learned the hard way about knocking and averting his eyes so many times now that he was sure he’d given himself whiplash. There were noises he never, ever wanted to know his brother made, and he’d had such a hard time getting over what he’d walked in on in the kitchen that time, that he now entered every room with his hand out in front of his face to act as shield from whatever things they may or may not (but were always) be doing.

But honestly, it was all worth it to see Dean as close to truly content as Dean was ever likely to get.

Having Cas around - and agree with him - was also very, very useful to Sam when he wanted to get his own way.

Cas stood at the window gazing out into the street, listening to the exchange between the brothers behind him but until that point appearing to have no interest either way.

Sam was not one to miss an opportunity.

“Cas? You agree, don’t you? This could be important, right?” There may have been pleading in Sam’s voice, but he didn't care. Not if it meant getting what he wanted.

Cas turned slowly and eyed them both, before walking towards the table where Sam held open a lore book and pointed to a symbol taking up most of a page. He ran his finger along the lines of it, and mumbled, “I have no objection to staying one more day.”

“Cas,” Dean moaned. “Come on, man, don’t take his side.”

“I'm not ‘taking sides’, Dean,” Cas stated, and Sam watched in amusement at the look on Dean’s face that said _I'm having a hard time not finding you cute when you do that air quotes thing_. “It could be important. It could be unimportant. Either way, one more day will not be arduous for us.” Cas concluded, walking towards Dean.

“Arduous my ass,” Dean mumbled, reaching out a hand towards Cas. “I just want to-”

Be careful what you wish for is a phrase that Sam should have tattooed on the back of his hands and eyelids. He should have known getting his own way came with a price.

Because Dean was interrupted mid-sentence by Cas walking up behind him, resting his hands on Dean’s shoulder blades and pressing an open mouthed kiss at the base of Dean’s neck.

Sam did not want to watch Dean’s face slack, pupils dilate, or hear the halted gasp of his voice as Cas continued to lean into and kiss him on the same spot.

“I-” Dean tried, and Cas bit down, making Dean breathe out shallowly. He then licked over the wound and followed it with another kiss. And another.

Dean’s head slumped forward.

Sam did not want to see any of this at all.

“We’re staying, Sam.” Cas said without the slightest edge of triumph in his voice, just the stating of a simple fact.

Sam nodded dumbly and made excuses to leave, fumbling and missing the door handle and backing out awkwardly.

When Dean’s breathing had calmed, he glared at Cas, pointing a finger. “Hey. You are NOT supposed to use that trick on me outside of our bedroom. Got it? You know you've got an unfair advantage when you do that.”

Cas cracked a smug smile then and sighed, looping his arms around Dean’s waist and leaning into his chest.

“I know, Dean,” Cas said quietly, pressing a kiss into the pulse point at Dean’s neck, “I am a terrible person for manipulating you.” A light bite to Dean’s stubbled jaw followed, “How will you ever forgive me?” and he finished with an almost-kiss skirting across Dean’s lips.

Dean tried not to smile against Cas’ lips, he really did. But he was helpless and he knew it. Dropping his head forward with a groan, he ran his hands down Cas’ arms and stepped in a little closer.

“Alright, Cas. You got what you wanted.”

“Not yet I didn't.” Cas argued, leaning his hips into Dean’s with no small shred of feigned innocence at all.

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Sam wanted to look at the symbol. He didn't ask you to go with him,” Cas said reasonably, fingers slowly unbuckling Dean’s belt as he held his gaze. “The church is at least twenty minutes from here on foot. And Sam did not take your car keys.”

Dean grinned, watching Cas unbutton his jeans and slide down his zip, then raised his arms as Cas pulled off his t shirt over his head.

“And you said yourself. It’s at least twelve hours to get to the bunker.” Cas gripped Dean’s waist and walked him backwards until the backs of his legs bumped into the bed. “I didn't want to wait that long.”

And with that, he pushed Dean back, climbing on top of him and winding his fingers through Dean’s, pressing him into the bed.

“I assume you do not have a problem with my reasoning.”

Dean arched up into Cas, the stupidest of grins on his face as he leaned up for a kiss.

“Nope. No problem at all, Cas. Not one.”

  



End file.
